The bio page from karmicreliefthebook.com

1. Bio of Gary Gillett
Born: 1959, April 3rd
Living in: Tarzana, CA
Family moved to California in 1900
1 of 4 children of Jim and Lee Gillett
Sisters Kathy Brooks and Donna Hernandez
Brother Michael Bernard born 11-22-52
passed away 03-01-53 from pneumonia
I followed him as the only other male in the family on April
3rd, 1959 and then died as a baby shortly thereafter from
complications known today as SIDS (Sudden Infant Death
Syndrome)
I was ‘told’ by various entities that I wasn’t home to stay
but rather was being ‘sent back’ because they “couldn’t
take another male child from these people who really
wanted a boy and lost your brother, Michael.”
I remember feeling so happy to ‘be home’ again, saddened
to leave, and then very happy to be wanted so much by
my parents that going back to the human form must be
pretty good, so I went back to the hman form. It WAS
good!
In my whole life I never felt unloved, unwanted, or less
than a gift from God.

2. On a sunny Saturday, June 11, 1967, when I was 8 years of
age I remember watching “The Banana Splits Show”
(featuring cartoons and live-action humans in animal suits)
in my living room, before my sisters or parents were
awake. I kept it low so as not to awaken anyone, but then
heard a loud noise across the street, a sound of a lawn
being mowed. As I peered out the window, I saw that my
friend, Rudy Martinez, was raking up the freshly-mown
grass, the work of his older brother, José, from the small
strip of lawn behind the neighborhood grocery store,
Thriftimart.
I decided to go say hello to him despite the fact he couldn’t
really hear me amongst the sounds of the mower and rake.
I waved and smiled, and he waved and smiled back. Then
I heard an even louder sound, of metal against metal,
which was interrupted by the sound and feeling of
something slapping me hard against my neck. When I went
to feel the spot of impact, I was rather shocked to feel a
hard object sticking out of my neck, and a thin trickle of
liquid coming down as well.
After the screaming of the kids and neighbors, I rode to
the La Puente Community Hospital via ambulance, then
watched as they operated on a little boy in the Emergency
Room. I realized that this was the second time to visit the
‘other side’, and was delighted that I was home again.
That’s when I was told that there were other plans for me,
and I was to go back to Earth again. In my 8-yr. old
impudence (perhaps more so simple curiousity since I kind
of liked Earhlings) I asked “So when can I come home
again?”

3. The response was “After your mother has passed, then
the door will be open for you.” Okay. Fair enough! When I
awoke, I saw a room filled with toys, candy, books (who
the heck would give a child brought back from death
books?), and family and friends. And I also saw a lot of
television cameras encircling the bed with lenses aimed
squarely at me! It turns out that now I was known as the
“Million-in-One Kid”. I found out that it meant that I had
really beaten the odds on this one, with 3 doctors taking
about 6 hours to remove the 6” long bolt only 1/8” from
my spinal cord and jugular vein. I found out later that it’s
the kind used to bolt a transformer onto a telephone pole,
and had been left behind in the grass. (The flyer later
printed by the Electric Co. would label it as the type used
by linemen to climb the poles but that’s incorrect; those
have a bend in them at the end to keep the shoes from
slipping off of the steps. They called their flyer “Pain in the
Neck”, used to keep this kind of incident from happening
again.)
With many ‘get well’ letters from my classmates, great toys
and an 11 ft. stuffed red snake surrounding me, I guess
the huge bandage around my neck could be tolerated for a
little while. And the hospital food wasn’t bad, either!
The many years following that consisted of my getting
involved with metaphysics at an early age, studying and
then co-teaching Kung Fu at 17, wondering why other
kids didn’t get my fascination with the unknown, and
traveling a bit to study languages and cultures.
I used my love of languages and accents to my advantage

4. in the voice acting business, and now am heard in many
countries doing character voices and vocal sound effects.
In 1998 I met an amazing woman named Lora Katheryn at
a birthday party for a mutual friend. She almost
immediately took hold of my arm (and a small piece of my
heart) when she saw a cast on me as a result of an ealier
encounter with a cement wall while playing basketball with
some friends at a local college. As a massage therapist she
felt the need to do what she could to heal my injury. She
would have healed the world if given half the chance. I
must admit, my arm did feel better after her ministrations.
Having seen her earlier hurriedly remove her dress after a
bee went inside it only made her the more vulnerable and
endearing to me.
Later, in 2000, as my fiancée, she and I were playing at the
Cajun Festival in Simi Valley, CA., dancing and eating the
local fair’s faire and genuinely enjoying our Memorial Day
celebration together. Over the two years we had been
together, we had been working together as “Healing
Hands” massage, and as “Aesop’s Foibles” as storytellers,
doing shows for kids at schools, libraries, and special
events. She was known as the “storyteller angels come to
hear.”
I had picked her up at work after having checked out the
venue earlier while she worked as a massage therapist in
Woodland Hills that Saturday morning.
Had I known what 7:31pm would bring us, I’m pretty sure
I would have avoided coming back that day. From a
beautiful, sunny day to complete blackness in a hearbeat,

5. then so many questions! “Do you know where you are?”
“Do you know what happened?”, amongst faces I had
some trouble recognizing. It seems we were hit by a drunk
driver as we crossed the street, where our car was parked
along with those of most of the fair’s patrons. Apparently
she didn’t make it to the hospital, dying on the way, and I
was in the process of being questioned as to who I
thought I was.
It took two days for them to tell me Lora had died, but I
had no trouble believing them, as I had gone with her and
spent some time out of the body. I remember it as though
it were yesterday, as I remember all of the non-corporeal
ventures from my mortal self, with absolute lucidity.
They never told me how long I was out of my human shell
this time.
In fact, I had a wonderful time with her as our true
spiritual entities, and we played in so many forms of
existence with each other that I never wanted it to stop.
But then one day she smiled and just pushed me back, her
beautiful wings glowing purple against the bright white
light. What could I do? Apparently the entities guiding my
life knew what was best. As an “Angel In Training”, as she
called herself in her human form, I felt she had finally made
the grade. But I got the boot, once again!
After 5 weeks in ICU at the Simi Valley Adventist Hospital,
I was ready for a real room with a window, where I could
look out and see the world. I remember thinking that little
Room #4 was poorly designed as all I could see was all the
machines lit up and making so much noise all of the time.
That and the nurses station across the hall.

6. My friend Gregg Cox came to see me from Germany as
scheduled as our guest at our house, but now came to the
ICU instead. He smiled as I opened my eyes to see him
dressed in a brown suit with a brown striped tie looking
down at me, but then my eyes closed and as he later
recalled “...all the machines went off and they yelled at me
and threw me out of the room!” to my apparent flat-lining
joy of seeing him. I guess it was a bit much for me to take
at the time.
That was 10 years ago this year, 2010, and now I’m able to
run again for the first time thanks to rehab at Rancho Los
Amigos in Downey, my amazing chiropractor Jeff Katlein
of Sherman Oaks, some yoga and T’ai Chi, and a lot of
time on the tennis courts. No more wheelchair, no more
walker, no more canes, and a daily blessing to the
Universe for my lessons here.